Two years later

Two years ago I was holding you, watching you smile, laying with you and giving you kisses. I can’t believe it has been two years.

In the past two years I have been learning ways to remember and honor you. Words I shared at your memorial service, are ingrained in my mind because I wrote my speech while laying next to you, in your room and had the chance to read it to you. Although you couldn’t respond, you looked at me with a small smile. “You are the heart and soul of our family and i’m going miss you more than words can describe. I told you that you were our rock, we couldn’t have asked for more. I am now outnumbered to Mom, Linds, Em and Kyle, I need my blonde hair blue eyed dad by my side.”

I have been searching for ways for you to live within me, holding on tight to the memories and qualities that made you, you. Two weeks ago, I read this Father’s letter to a girl whose sky lantern landed in his driveway, it really impacted me as we let off sky lanterns for you. “No one will ever love you quite the way your father did, but many people will see in you some of the same qualities and bits that he did.”

 I felt like it was a message from my dad written to us.


I remember you as a builder, handyman, direction giver, listener, problem solver, advice giver, life guidance. I still find myself asking What would dad do? What would you say to this and how would you handle this.

Although losing someone instantly would be immensely painful, losing someone slowly over a year is beyond indescribable.  I did not expect to miss taking care of you so much. Some days I think to myself, I wish I could go visit dad today, tell him how my day was, help him eat, watch a show with him, just anything to see his smiling face acknowledge me.

 I hate that there is no cure for this horrible disease. CJD affects one in a million a year, I wonder why you.

 Dad, you did all things with care for others. I truly realize how important of a role you played in our immediate family, extended family and friends life. I will never grasp, how people who were always there, your best friends, your family, disappeared. That must be a testament to the glue that held our entire extended family circle together. Once the glue is gone, the pieces fall apart.  “Love is as strong as death. As inevitable, as powerful, as eternal. It can’t be escaped. It can’t be avoided. It won’t be forgotten. And when death is gone, love will remain.”

 Like Matt wrote to Steph, “I have always loved you. I am immensely proud of you. Live a good life. Be loved”  Dad, you are so loved. I will celebrate you for the rest of my life.

 Please consider a gift to support CJD Research. Our page, dedicated to my dad. 








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